


these sleepless nights of inspiration

by goukyorin (sashimisusie)



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, M/M, Reblog fics, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashimisusie/pseuds/goukyorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various Dishonored vignettes and reblog fics originally posted on tumblr. Tags updated as required.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. caim (Corvo/Jessamine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Implied Corvo/Jessamine. Corvo has a hard time sleeping most of the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [caim](http://other-wordly.tumblr.com/post/32814438195/caim): (n.) lit. “sanctuary”; an invisible circle of protection, drawn around the body with the hand, that reminds you that you are safe and loved, even in the darkest times.

When the unsettling familiarity of the Void forces him awake, or his blood-drenched nightmares leave him fleeing back to wakefulness, Corvo finds himself reaching for the heart cradled by his coat.

His worn, scarred hands clasp the firm muscle of the clockwork curiosity, touching the wires and running a finger over the dimly-lit glass panel.

He closes his eyes and clasps the mechanical heart to his own, slowing his breaths to its steady beat. He lets the quiet murmur of a woman’s voice whispering  _(of safety and peace, of love and ease)_  fill his mind and cast him adrift.

Corvo sleeps, and if he dreams of her, he does not speak of it.


	2. come find me (Corvo/The Outsider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo/The Outsider. "Come find me," says the chaotic neutral whalegod. Things are never what they seem to be with the Outsider.  
> Reblog fic for [Kass' picture](http://urdnotkassa.tumblr.com/post/36585676462/as-done-as-i-can-muster-rn-lkjdfg-buh-corvo-take) of Corvo and The Outsider in the Void.

Corvo wakes to find his attic room frozen in time, the sound of waves lapping at his window and the room bathed in the clear blue of an ocean’s shallows. 

_“Come find me”._

A playful challenge from a bored god, an offering with a twist. He touches the mark on the back of the hand absentmindedly, a ghost of a shiver running down his neck.

The door opens easily _(and why should it not, in this unfamiliar familiarity)_ and he takes a step down the stairs before the floor gives way to shadows and the Void.

He falls for what feels like an eternity, passing floating islands of things that have yet _(have already)_ to come to pass. Directions mean nothing and time means even less in this strange place.

Off in the endless expanse of the void, he spies the purple glow of a shrine’s lanterns. In another thought, he is there  _(and the mysteries of the Void never cease)._

“Here I am,” Corvo states simply to the Outsider, the figure floating effortlessly in front of the fabric billowing in the windless sea.

The Outsider draws Corvo’s hand to his crooked smile and he holds back a gasp as the mark flares bright, igniting a trail of desire down to the base of his spine.

He opens his mouth to ask  _(what does one ask of a god?)_  and finds himself taking a deep breath of ocean brine, a cool mouth on his own. It feels like drowning and he is powerless to keep himself from wanting more.

Corvo wakes and the room is still as dark as the Outsider’s empty eyes.


	3. parental lamentations (Corvo and Emily)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dad!Corvo and Emily. It's hard being an Empress sometimes. Corvo tries to help with his horrible dancing.  
> Reblog fic inspired by [meagkhan's picture](http://meagkhan.tumblr.com/post/36417982616/oh-look-its-4am-time-for-my-dose-of-crippling) of Emily standing on Corvo's feet, with apologies to the [Parental Lament](http://danielgray.com/blog/parental-lament.html) poem.

The days slip from sunlight to shadow too quickly for his liking, and it is not long before Corvo begins to see Jessamine’s ghost in the sharpening cheekbones of Emily’s face.

But she is still a child  _(will always be a child to him)_  and it tugs at his heart when her cheerful smiles begin to fade too quickly.

When the shadows grow long enough to send the nobles home, Corvo picks her up, the delicate weight of a child  _(with the burden of an empire resting on her thin shoulders)_  resting on his boots.  

He hums a half-forgotten Serkonan folk song as they twirl around, broken melodies of adventure and love, singing of things that she loves to dream about but has little time for now.

Emily’s laughter drifts in the wake of his clumsy steps, the cadence staving off the descent from sunshine to sorrow for another day.


	4. upwards opening (Daud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daud reflects upon the choices he's made.  
> Reblog fic based on [this picture](http://monkeymu.deviantart.com/art/Regret-334371885) of Daud, as drawn by mugu.

There was a choice, however limited it might be, but the thought only occurred to him long after the dizzying downwards leap into the Void.

Perhaps it was the power to go anywhere, or the fear that brought men down from lofty heights to their knees. But Daud cannot lie to himself. It was always the whispers, the soft reassurances against his ear. That he was someone special, that he was meant to do great things.

No greater thing than to murder an empire, standing tall as the blood-stained keystone crumbles at his feet. A child swallowed by the chaos and the startling reflection of a man with his own limited choices to make.

Daud rubs gloved fingers against the leather-covered mark on his hand, ignores the static jolt that courses beneath his skin at the contact. 

He’s made his choice.


	5. the art of living (Daud and the Whalers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Low chaos Daud and the Whalers, post-game. On second chances and the art of tending to living things.  
> Reblog fic based on [meagkhan's picture](http://meagkhan.tumblr.com/post/36933305161/i-truly-enjoy-the-idea-that-a-low-chaos-daud) of vintner!Daud.

True to his word, Daud fades from the memory of those who he haunted in the city, trading the shadows of Dunwall for the sun-drenched steppes of Serkonos. It is with luck  _(and more than a little bit of coin)_  that he finds a tiny vineyard for sale, a few miles out from Saggunto.

It is quiet in the fields, quiet enough to hear the murmured conversations of the loyal men who followed him here as they tend to the vines. They are a good bunch  _(like these grapes)_ , he thinks, and he is grateful for their dedication. 

The first few years are rough, inexperience and doubt wearing at him like hooks at whale. But he learns, consults with those wiser than he at the art of tending to living things, and it gets better in stages.

The work is hard, but there is something honest about the soft falling of grapes into pails and the lines of sweat running down his back as he thins tender shoots from vines.

When the wine is decent, its smoky vanilla and oak overtones lingering in his mouth like the smoke from his cigarette, Daud sends a single bottle across the sea to Dunwall. There is no note, no words he can bring himself to put to paper, but he knows that Corvo will understand.


	6. courtship rituals (Daud/The Outsider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daud/The Outsider. He appears as a young man, honeyed promises on his tongue hiding the cruel truths that fall from his lips. The Outsider is _very_ convincing.  
>  Reblog fic for [Pungafruit's art](http://pungafruit.tumblr.com/post/37043452108/for-pathopharmacology-a-long-overdue-request-of) of a young Daud and the Outsider.

The rune gleams in the dim light, pale bone inset with the mark of the Outsider. The edges worn and dark with dirt or blood; he’s heard of the rituals and it makes Daud all the more thankful that he is wearing gloves.

As he runs his fingers along the worn straps across his body, debating where best to hide it on his person, the room at the edge of his vision shifts into the unsettling calm of the Void. 

He shifts, startled by the cool breath at his neck, the chill of the Void mingling with the fire coursing through his bones from the Outsider’s touch. Daud can feel the promises whispering across the mark on his hand, clear as the smooth voice in his ear. 

His hands have known nothing but violence and he ignores the dream in his heart, as easily as the Outsider crushes the bones between his fingers, shards and powder falling into the gaping Void under their feet.

Daud breathes deep the intoxicating rush of power; if his heart speaks of other matters, he does not listen.


	7. the rivers run red (Daud/The Outsider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daud/The Outsider. Sometimes the Outsider likes to watch as Daud works.  
> Reblog fic based on [this picture](http://pungafruit.tumblr.com/post/37403395751/for-lucysnight-who-asked-for-these-two) of Daud and the Outsider by Pungafruit.

The man gasps briefly, fingers scrabbling at his throat before Daud catches his limp body under the arms. His fingers have always been deft. 

He works quickly, stripping valuables from the man as the blood runs slowly from corpse to cobblestone. He stashes the body in a alley that is more shadow than substance. 

As Daud steps out into the dusk, away from another life cut short by his hands, the shadows follow him out and wrap their fingers around his own.

They walk hand in hand with no one but the rats at their backs, watching as the rivers run red beneath their feet.


	8. lonely, lightless depths (The Outsider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Outsider. The sea is full of many strange things, but he is the most mysterious of them all. He wonders what it would be like if he wasn't alone.  
> Reblog fic for [Pungafruit's art](http://pungafruit.tumblr.com/post/38459360487/insert-bored-whalegod-sound-here) of a bored chaotic neutral whalegod.

The sea is dark and cold, its depths lightless. In the shifting gloom of the waters, he takes the shape of the ones who sought him first, sings their songs with them. There are other things here, things with too many tentacles and not enough empty eyes. He prefers the whales, as the mortals call them.

He is not exactly one of them, but neither is he exactly apart. The bodies he takes to rest in the waters are his, yet not.

Sometimes he wonders what it is like to be intricately wound up, tangled in a web not of his own making. But he is the waters and the waves, the rain that tears down stones and nurtures plants to life. He is all of the endings and ever single beginning, a thing that is not a thing meant to be known.

He can only be, ever be an outsider.


	9. keep quiet (Daud/Martin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daud x Martin porn drabble. Written for [mugumugu’s](http://mugumugu.tumblr.com) prompt.  
> Prompt: Martin says he can’t do it, he can’t keep quiet, and Daud asks if he’d like his mouth to be preoccupied with something else.

“Shut up,” Daud orders, his mouth hot by Martin’s ear and he can’t help but let out another moan as gloved hands curl tighter around his cock.

“I can’t,” he says and he really can’t, not when he’s trying to maintain some semblance of control as he tries not to rock his hips into Daud’s hands.

Martin almost loses his balance and lets out a protested squack when Daud stands up abruptly. If he wants to leave, now is not the right time, not when he can feel himself starting to come undone in those hands.

The words die on his lips as the belt clinks, trousers sliding down to Daud’s knees.

“Perhaps you need something else in your mouth then, if you won’t shut up.”


	10. socks (Daud/Martin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Implied Daud/Martin. Written for [mugumugu’s](http://mugumugu.tumblr.com) prompt.  
> Prompt: Martin and socks

Martin is a little surprised when Daud hands him a package. He’s not one for sentimental gifts and there haven’t been any holidays so he’s not exactly sure why there is a lumpy bundle of paper and twine in his hands.

“What’s this?” Martin eyes the innocuous gift suspiciously. He decides not to comment on the atrocious wrapping. “If it’s going to kill me, I have enough people in line for that, _thank you very much_.”

Daud makes an irritated sound in response. “It’s not going kill you.”

Surprisingly enough, nothing leaps out of the packaging at him. There are no Outsider-cursed rats or sharp poisoned needles hidden in the multicoloured mass of wool and coloured paper.

“…socks?” Martin laughs, dangling a pair of knitted socks by the heel. “When did you learn to knit?”

He sees the look in Daud’s eyes and wisely decides not to comment any further. Daud likes it better when he’s quiet, anyways.


	11. oral perception (Daud/Martin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for [alucifer’s](http://alucifer.tumblr.com/) prompt.  
> Prompt: Daud/Martin - taste (bonus if you don’t go the obvious route)

When Martin presses Daud to the wall, he tastes the salt of the sea on his parted lips. He is the dangerous waters in which he treads, water creeping in through all the smallest cracks to tear apart what is whole.

Daud tastes like the bitter smoke curling from a lit cigarette, a solid wisp in the air that disappears between Martin’s grasping fingers.


	12. in the dark (Corvo/The Heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of the things in the Void are kind.

The darkness wraps its fingers around his throat, caresses the lines of his face as it whispers wordlessly into his ears.

“Corvo,” it whispers to the beating of a clockwork heart. “My love.”

He takes himself apart to the sound of her voice echoing secrets from the darkest of places, until there is nothing left. The Outsider’s machinations are a mercy in comparison


	13. mountain of corpses (Corvo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reblog fic for pungafruit's image of [high chaos Corvo](http://pungafruit.tumblr.com/post/40483447585). All I can say is damn Corvo, you are one frightening person in high chaos.

It's not that he likes the killing. The sickening plunge of a sword into soft flesh brings back too many unwanted thoughts and the recoil of a pistol is a sharp pain against his wrist after so many months of neglect. But the mad rush of power that streaks through his veins is exhilarating.

He does not lose control completely. He picks apart the stitches just wide enough to let the demons and bloodlust out, sews the semblance of control back on when the streets run red under his boots.

With every corpse that he leaves behind ( _they are only ever corpses when he is through_ ), Emily’s throne grows closer and closer.

They asked for an assassin. He is only too happy to play the part.


	14. familial bonds (Geoff and Callista)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff and Callista are more alike than they know.  
> Implied one-sided Callista/Cecelia, Curnow family feels. Pretty much that one scene at the end of Dishonored.

She sees Cecelia's hand twined in Piero's, her head resting on his shoulder. It shouldn't hurt as much as it does.

Callista gives her uncle a tighter hug than intended and he lets out a surprised grunt before patting her back.

It is a familiar feeling to him, to love and then lose. Geoff knows it too well and it pains him to see it in Callista. He knows it from the way her eyes follow Cecelia, the tell-tale tightness in her jaw that is much like his own.

Callista has known, or at least, guessed of his secret and now he of hers. They are more alike than they think to know.

"Come on," he says when they step back. "Let's go home."

He keeps a hold on her hand, squeezes it in reassurance. Family is not much comfort when you're in hurt in love, but they're all they have now.

He only hopes it is enough.


	15. beaches (Corvo and Emily)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Corvo taking Emily on vacation, as requested by [Taylor](https://twitter.com/kingsparrovv) on twitter.

It's been more than a decade since Corvo's stood on the isles of Serkonos, the sand warm between his toes. The last time he was here was with Jessamine, standing still and silent a sword's length away as she waved goodbye to the crowds.

He can still see Jessamine in Emily's movements sometimes. Less so now that she's growing into the empress she was born to be, the ghost of her mother's influence assimilating into the background day by day. She is every bit her mother's daughter, and so, so much more.

There are days when the sadness that her ten-year-old self left behind returns to her eyes, and when they both know without speaking, that Jessamine is on their minds. On those days, Emily is colder, more quiet, and more stern. Those days grow fewer in number, and shorter in frequency. Today is not one of those days.

"Corvo! Come see," she laughs, and motions for him to put down all the things he's carrying.

The way she waves to him and smiles, knee-deep in the shallows with the sun on her shoulders, and the silver fish tickling her ankles in the water, is entirely Emily. Corvo wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
